The Do-Over(7)

“I owe you a towel,” I told Hunter as we readied to leave the room.

“You don’t owe me a towel,” he laughed.

“No?” I looked confused. Unlike the big cruise lines, the cabins on the windjammer did not come stocked with many towels, so they were always at a premium.

“Not my towel.” He shrugged, his smile and dimples taking on a roguish appeal.

“Isn’t this your cabin?”

Shaking his head slowly, I could see he was amused as my eyes widened and the situation began to dawn on me.

“We just had sex in someone else’s shower?”

And we both burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, no way.” I literally had tears streaming down my cheeks; I was laughing so hard. I f*cked a handsome Marine in a stranger’s cabin. The story was getting better and better. My girlfriends back home were going to love this! This just may have been the sluttiest thing I’d ever done in my entire life. And it was hot! So freaking hot and so not me!

Hand-in-hand, we left the cabin still laughing. The steward was still in the hall servicing rooms, and Hunter dipped his head into the open cabin, “Hey chief, can we get a few more towels three cabins down in 219.” At least we’d be replacing the cabin occupant’s used towels with fresh ones.

Turning back into the hall, Wes was about five steps away, coming toward us. My instinctual reaction, coming straight from my heart, without the interference of my brain, was to smile. I could see the edges of his mouth twitch in response, but go no further when he saw my hand lost within Hunter’s. His eyes took on a distance I knew I would not have the opportunity to traverse.

“Hi.” It was out of my mouth before I could even assess the damage.

He nodded in acknowledgment, fitting of his cool, hipster-like persona, but did not speak.

And my heart just cracked. In that very instant, the joy of the shower was gone, because I knew I would have given anything and everything to have changed a meaningless hot f*ck with the Marine for the chance to make love, just once, with Wes and see if our amazing connection soared physically, the way our chemistry clicked in other aspects.

When he was beyond us, I turned, praying he would walk past cabin 219 on his way back to his room. Keep walking, Wes. Keep walking. I said a silent prayer for him not to walk into the cabin with the wet towels strewn about the bathroom floor.

No such luck.

I had just f*cked the Marine in Wes’ shower.





Chapter 3


Over the next few days, I tried making eye contact with Wes in the dining room. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I owed him an apology. I attempted to catch his eye on deck. I stood behind him on line as we disembarked on Dominica. Wes was having no part of me. I’d become invisible to the guy, with the exception of a head nod here and there, and it was really bothering me. He had a girlfriend, so why should he care about who I was messing around with, right?

The Marine was off on a diving excursion and I was signed up for a day tour of Dominica that included an open-air Jeep ride, ziplining, a visit to the famed Ti Tou Gorge and finally ending at the Bubble Beach Spa, a small red rocky beach, with a spectacular view, where the water is warmed by an underground sulphur hot spring bubbling up on the shores of the Caribbean island.

There were only sixteen of us on the tour, so avoiding Wes and Stacy was difficult at best. I found myself sneaking looks at him throughout the day. He was nowhere near as handsome as the Marine and his slim frame seemed downright scrawny in comparison, but as he sat there, hidden behind his Ray-Bans, curls a luscious mess, it was his oh-so-cool attitude and pouty lips that made him so attractive to me. That, and the personality that I knew I clicked with, before it was swept away in that first morning’s glare.

I wanted to be near Wes, to sit next to him in the jeep sharing the sights of the beautiful island, have him waiting as I approached the end of the zip line course. I ached for him to be standing there waiting to catch me. I wanted to fall into his arms, laughing with glee. I wanted to f*ck him in his shower.

And I hated that one night, one magical night of conversation; clicking with this guy had made it impossible for me to live in the moment and just totally give myself over to the now and enjoy hot vacation sex with Hunter. What the hell was my problem? I hated that I wanted what I couldn’t have. It sucked. Sitting in the back of the Jeep, I sent imaginary daggers into Stacy’s nasty head. I had a hard time separating my dislike for her and my anger at myself.

Bubble Beach Spa was the last stop for the day and frankly, I just couldn’t wait to get back to the boat. I’d had enough of being on this small, intimate tour with a man who was purposely ignoring me and his sister who had perfected giving me dirty looks.

Walking over to the small bar shack, I stood in line, focusing on the hanging nets and conch shells. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Stacy and another woman from the tour enter a picturesque old church across the road. Wes was not with her.

Quickly looking around, I spied him carefully walking along the large rocks that separated a small lagoon-like area from the rest of the bay. He got out to the farthest point, before stepping off the rocks and partially submerging into the water.

“Two Margaritas with salt,” I told the warm-smiled bartender, praying that he would make them fast. I needed to be in the water with those drinks before Stacy emerged from the church. Maybe she’ll stay in there for a while praying for the return of her * boyfriend and an STD for her former best friend.